


Never Again

by just_passing_bi



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Canon Gay Relationship, Canonical Character Death, Chapter 10 Ep 27, Character Death, F/F, Gay, Gay Tree, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Petals to the Metal Ep 27, Sad, Sloane POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 11:15:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10615761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_passing_bi/pseuds/just_passing_bi
Summary: "It’s Hurley.Except, it isn’t Hurley. Not like she knows. Hurley’s veins are black and when she coughs, it’s ragged, slicing at her heart and tearing it open and why, why."A closer look at that one scene from Petals to the Metal.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Basically my response to That Gay Scene in Petals to the Metal after what Griffin said in this TTAZZ. (I still have a lot of feelings about this scene.) Warnings for lots of angst, guilt, and canonical, non-graphic character death.

Sloane can feel something _snap_. The fog that’s been clouding her vision, her thoughts, her entire being vanishes, and it’s like having an arrow yanked out, sharp and painful. It jolts her out of the darkness, out of the fuzzy hell scape her own stupidity trapped her in. She’s on her knees, half-submerged in water. She can feel it on her skin, cold and wet and it’s more than she’s felt in what must be months. But it doesn’t matter. It gets shoved back by the body she has wrapped in her arms and she’s trembling with the weight of this person, the weight of it all.  
It’s Hurley.  
Except, it isn’t Hurley. Not like she knows. Hurley’s veins are black and when she coughs, it’s ragged, slicing at her heart and tearing it open and why, why.  
“You’re in trou-ble,” Hurley whispers and it’s weak, weaker than Hurley would ever want anyone to see her as, weaker than Sloane’s ever heard. Still, it’s her voice and Sloane can’t help but laugh, because yes there are sirens in the distance but they’re singing the last chords to a song Sloane never wants to hear the end of. There is something wrong with Hurley. She can remember bits and pieces, like the sound of battlewagons and the wall of vines and Hurley, always Hurley, no matter what. Hurley who makes the stupid sacrifices. Hurley who saved her. Hurley who will die a hero and Hurley who will be buried by people who never really knew her because the one person who did will be rotting away in prison, cold and alone. And it’s Sloane’s fault. She did this. She made the mistake, she took the belt, she was the idiot and she damned them both for it. And now Hurley is paying the price. Always Hurley, too reckless and selfless and too big hearted, a heart with a rhythm she can feel with their bodies pressed together, a heart beating weaker and weaker with every passing second.  
She knows they’re not alone here, and Sloane looks up, stares at these three people. They deserve an explanation. It’s like talking into a pillow, with how muffled her voice sounds. “This whole time, I- I was looking for something more powerful than this _fucking_ belt.” The words pour out and she knows they’re useless now, but she needs to say _something_. She doesn’t know this trio, but Hurley did and Hurley trusted them and she was always a good judge of character. Except when it came to Sloane. Their eyes had met and it hadn’t been sparks, it had been like basking in the warmth of the sun, even when knowing that clouds would soon blot it out. She had been right about that, at least. Hurley had been so beautiful, and Sloane had wanted to kiss her right then, wanted to give her flowers and watch the sunset with her and be a good person like Hurley deserved. But all the love they had shared was surely gone, because Hurley was dying and Sloane had put her there. Sloane had turned her veins black with incurable poison. Sloane had killed the best thing in her life, and it was all because she was stupid enough to chase after more when she already had everything she could ever want.  
But when she looks down, their eyes connect and the warmth is still there, the warmth of sunlight and cuddling in front of the fire during winter and sharing body heat at night and blood pumping through veins as they fought together. Hurley’s eyes are filled with love. Even after everything Sloane did. She still loves her. Even as she is dying. Maybe I’m not the only idiot, she thinks, and she can’t feel the thrall from the belt anymore, not with those eyes looking into her soul and still finding good.  
_What did I ever do to deserve this?_  
Nothing, was the answer. And yet.  
“I’m such a fool.”  
It’s not enough, to convey the aching in her chest and the guilt squeezing her stomach. Nothing will ever be. She had the most powerful thing in the world right in front of her, filling every inch of her whenever they kissed, whenever they held hands, whenever they joked or raced or touched or said I love you and heard the other say it back. She had the most powerful thing in existence.  
“Heh, yah,” Hurley replied, smiling like the world wasn’t falling apart around them.  
Love. And she had thrown it aside like it was nothing.  
_I’m such a fool._  
One of the three people spoke up- the elf, in a pointy hat that she normally would have laughed at but now all she could do was cry. “Don’t you have any magics? You’re a cleric, for crying out loud,” he demands, staring at the dwarf next to him, and his voice is full of a desperation that Sloane knows is worthless now. It’s too late. Everything was too late.  
Sloane looks up at him. He looks horrified, like he can’t quite believe this is happening and nobody's doing anything about it. Sloane knows she should be horrified too, but all she can feel is guilt and regret and a bone-deep _love_ , even under all the pain, running through her veins and this, this is what power is. Hurley, in her arms, body heat bleeding through clothes. “This is- the- The venom of silverpoint is- there’s nothing we can do.” Her throat is closing up in a way that makes it hard to speak, but there’s so much left to say and no time left to say it.  
“Horse shit!” the elf yells. He doesn’t understand. Sloane does. This is the end. This is the last page of their story.  
“Well, there’s one thing I can do for her.” One last thing. One last vow. She leans down and brings her mouth to Hurley’s ear, and Hurley shivers slightly when she breathes words into her ear because she was always ticklish. It seems like such a silly thing to be thinking about, but her mind latches onto it, latches onto how she’ll never hear Hurley’s laugh again, a song that she could never get tired of hearing. Her laugh when they were racing and fighting like it was the last time they ever would. When they curled up together after a win, recounting every moment and watching the fire burn low but both still warm because how could they be cold in each other's arms. When they danced to their own bad singing, making up the words as they went. No more laughing. No more anything. Hurley will be gone, snuffed out like a candle, when she was always so much bigger, so much brighter, than that. After this, no one will hear Hurley’s laugh. Not even Sloane. It’s over. It’s the end. It’s all her fault.  
This is the least she can do.  
“Yah, I think that’ll be alright,” is Hurley’s quiet response. Of course it is. This way, it’ll be different. An end on their own terms. After all, they never did things traditionally. They had fallen in love while the adrenaline was pumping, and when the energy faded, that feeling didn't. Kissed before the first date and held hands on the third and said I love you when they were fighting for their lives, hiding behind masks but more exposed than ever.  
She looks back up. The three onlookers are still there. “I- I want to thank you for everything you’ve done, but I have one last request for you. Are there other objects in this world, that are as powerful as this belt?” A chorus of yes’s. She pauses for only a moment. She knows what she needs to say.  
“Don’t let this happen again.”  
Don’t let anyone make the same mistakes she did. Don’t let something like this fuck up a life so thoroughly again. Don’t let anyone else die like this, waist-deep in water and regrets with arms full of someone they would give anything to fix, and yet they didn’t give up the one thing that would have saved her. Never let this happen again. _Never again,_ she thinks. That’s all she can ask for. She doesn’t deserve anything more. And yet she must, because cradled in her embrace is Hurley.  
She knows what she wants to do. Hurley wants it too. A memorial, of sorts. A warning. A testament to them, to their love, to their mistakes, that would outlive both of them. That would outlast death. That would finally fulfill a promise she had made so long ago. _Forever,_ she had said. Now and forever, til death do us part, til the end of the world and longer. It feels like the world is ending right now.  
Sloane looks down at Hurley again. Hurley, the sun. The stars. The whole damn sky. Everyone else would get to see the beauty she sees, staring into her eyes.  
She barely has to try. She only has to concentrate for a split second before they’re both being swallowed up by the belt’s magic, and she tries to say I love you, tries to say it one last time but the belt takes that from her too and the words never make it out. Her lips move but there’s no sound, only silence and regret and Hurley. She was too late. She was always too late.  
_Never again,_ she thinks, and then nothing.

_Never again._

**Author's Note:**

> I may be turning this into a short series of one-shots centered around this scene. I'm not sure yet. Either way, I hope you enjoyed this!  
> Also, I'm on tumblr at just_passing_bi. Feel free to talk to me about taz.


End file.
